In what might have been a do-no-wrong year that will likely result in a raft of Grammy nominations next week anyway, Justin Timberlake has at least once or twice proved capable of being less than the perfect pop superstar he otherwise is.

“Runner Runner was my favorite film of 2013!” exclaimed absolutely no one. “I prefer the second 20/20 Experience disc to the first!” chimed none of your friends.

Timberlake, who returned to Southern California for spectacular sold-out shows this week in Anaheim and Los Angeles, has laughed all the way to the bank about his double-wide chart-topping album success this year. March brought an expansive thriller with almost zero filler, its grand excesses encapsulated in the eight-minute leadoff masterstroke “Pusher Love Girl.” September, however, delivered an undeniably spottier batch of extras whose keepers (the Vandross-smooth “Take Back the Night,” the soulful holler of “Drink You Away”) would have been better off blended into an even sharper single-disc epic.

Platinum sales and packed houses on not one but two tours (his Legends of the Summer outing with Jay Z played even larger places) is more than enough reason for this much-loved entertainer to dismiss any music-press haranguing. But he has appeared understandably stung by the scathing response to his box-office flop.

Granted, he didn’t do himself any favors during a “Man of the Year” interview earlier this month with GQ, when he justifiably fired back at critics (in particular a Variety writer who insists he stop acting) yet couldn’t help but sound defensive, indulging strains of the superstar persecution complex already so outrageously conveyed by Kanye West. His rebuff of the vitriol he’s received: “If I was someone else, you wouldn’t have said that.” His bottom line: “And by the way, none of you can do it.”

That’s true: Timberlake is a complete-package pop figure like no one else in the game right now, standing head and shoulders above his peers – especially on stage, where he indeed can do no wrong.

Seven years since he brought “SexyBack” to audiences who didn’t realize it had gone missing while unveiling arguably the boldest, most interactive touring production of the decade, JT has become a multiple threat with a million-dollar smile. He’s an all-class lover man with an unreal falsetto, a sonic innovator as advanced for his mainstream milieu as Arcade Fire is for indie rock, an endearing charmer with no demographic boundaries. More so than similarly lauded talents like Usher and Bruno Mars, he may well be the new Michael Jackson.

And maybe Kanye really is the creative genius he’s foolish enough to proclaim himself to be. Yet there are very fine lines crossover titans like these have to tread to maintain their reign – between basking in the adulation and drowning in egomania, pushing the envelope with impact and lapsing into self-indulgent incomprehensibility. Believe your own hype and you wind up making head-scratching travesties like KimYe’s rapidly parodied “Bound 2” video.

Timberlake is too much the consummate pro to veer very far into such nonsense, unless he’s hosting Saturday Night Live. Disciplined not only by teamwork years in ’N Sync but his days on Disney TV – “I used to work for Mickey Mouse,” he mentioned Wednesday night at Honda Center, adding that “the pay on that show was really (lousy), now that I think about it” – the 32-year-old has developed uncanny instincts for nailing the sweet spot. He’s hip-thrusting wild enough not to seem staid in his “Suit & Tie” yet still old-fashioned enough to go the tuxedoed route in the first place.

His nearly three-hour live embodiment of The 20/20 Experience, spanning 30-plus songs and including all but five tracks from the combined new work, is vivid black-and-white proof of that dichotomy. He’s now such a hyper-skilled performer so locked into his choreography that he can stun by slipping in and out of the blueprints, like an ice dancer skating within a routine and all around it simultaneously.

Eyeing marks every step of the way, subtly noticing when even a microphone stand isn’t where it should be, he nonetheless glides effortlessly into a palpable connection with fans, still predominantly female and squealing. Whether in sprawled-out sequences fronting his Tennessee Kids or during stark solo strolls across the stage, with the band momentarily lowered out of sight, he recaptured the same intimacy he has been carrying in his shows since a 2006 club-run warm-up for the FutureSex/LoveSounds tour. (It ought to feel even more in-your-face at the renovated Forum when it returns Jan. 20.)

That much mastery he achieved merely in the first half of Wednesday’s performance, before a 10-minute intermission.

The power of his slicked-back looks were often muted by steel-blue shading and shadow-casting spotlights during that portion, compensated for by visual dazzle projected on an arena-wide geodesic backdrop as massive and impressive as Roger Waters’ Wall. But Timberlake’s rousing moves, mighty voice and above all expert pacing kept the crowd cheering in anticipation. Dramatically opening (and grooving) with “Pusher Love Girl,” he quickly ratcheted up the hit factor, from “Rock Your Body” to “My Love” to “Summer Love,” culminating in a seamless dovetailing of his cameo from Jay Z’s “Holy Grail” into a dynamic rendition of “Cry Me a River” that eventually rocked hard like MJ’s “Dirty Diana.”

By the time, deep into the second set, he and some of his 15 players and singers danced atop a huge hydraulic lift that slowly carried them over patrons’ heads and to a B stage at the other end of the venue, it felt as though Timberlake’s screaming minions were literally gravitating toward him. His straight, solid handling of the Elvis Presley classic “Heartbreak Hotel” once he reached that satellite spot was meant as a nod of respect to his Memphis-rooted forebear, yet it illuminated the enduring allure of singing heartthrobs: the shrieking grew louder, the podium he stood upon got mobbed.

If only for the infectious excitability caused by moments like that – or his spot-on cover of Jackson’s cooing “Human Nature,” or the stretch that led from “Take Back the Night” into Kool & the Gang’s “Jungle Boogie” into a pumped-up take on his own “Murder” and then Bell Biv DeVoe’s “Poison” – well, yeah, the second half handily trumped the first.

But the totality of the show, its mix of Prince-ly tradition and Daft Punk-ish modernity, is what sets Timberlake apart from any pretenders to the King of Pop’s throne. He’s slicker than Usher, more retro-cool than Bruno and enticingly out-there adventurous like Kanye, without having to resort to disguises or posing atop a wintry mountain as if in misunderstood exile. Instead, he fuses the cutting edge to the completely approachable and comes out looking and sounding like no one else, with a vision all his own.

Timberlake has managed to strengthen his reputation every step of the way, pock marks like “Runner Runner” be damned. That’s a rare feat that already has made him a cherished icon for more than one generation. And what the men don’t know but the little girls understand is this: there are layers and layers still to emerge from behind that pretty face.

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